As they walked around the floor to the north side, they passed a food court with a pizza place and a hot dog stand. The counters were closed. It looked like they hadn’t served any food in a long time—but at each table sat kids, eating what appeared to be very, very small pieces of cake.

“That can’t be,” said Lief. “They’re eating. How can they be eating?”

Meadow smiled. “Mary traded something for a birthday cake. She shared it with all of the younger children.”

“But, we don’t eat,” said Lief, confused.

“Just because we don’t, doesn’t mean we can’t when there’s ghost food around.”

“Ghost food?” said Lief. “There’s ghost food?”

Nick looked at him and shook his head. “You’ve been around a hundred years, and you didn’t know there was ghost food?”

Lief looked like a kid who had missed the bus to Disneyland. “No one ever told me.”

Seeing the smaller children eating the birthday cake reminded Allie how hungry she was. Just like her craving for sleep, she knew her hunger would eventually pass, but there was no telling when. If it had been she who had gotten the birthday cake, she would not have been so generous as to share it with anyone. Maybe with Nick and Lief, but certainly not a hoard of little kids.

“You’ll really dig Mary,” said Meadow. Allie had to admit there was something comforting when Meadow’s lingo matched her clothes.

A makeshift wall had been built, blocking off the north half of the floor. Mary’s personal residence. A scrawny little kid with curly blond hair stood at the door like a pint-size guard.

“Some Greensouls to see Mary,” Meadow announced.

“Greensouls!” said the curly-haired boy excitedly. “I’m sure Miss Mary will want to see them right away.”

“Okay then. Ciao,” Meadow waved a quick good-bye, and sauntered away.

“She’s funny, isn’t she?” said the curly-headed boy. “Meadow’s always good for a laugh.” He put out his hand to shake. “I’m Stradivarius,” he said, “but everyone just calls me Vari. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Miss Mary.”

Miss Mary’s private residence was full of mismatched furniture. Just like the kids here, everything seemed to come from different times and different places. It was all furniture that had crossed into Everlost: bright to the eye and hard to the touch. Apparently Mary was good at collecting things that had crossed over.

When Mary saw them, she came gliding toward them, graceful on her feet. Allie wasn’t one to judge a person by her wardrobe—after all, the snobs from her school judged her often enough—but you couldn’t help but notice Mary’s dress: rich emerald velvet, with white lace cuffs and a lace collar so tight it seemed about ready to strangle her.

“It looks like you must have died on the way to a wedding,” Allie said. Nick didn’t settle for rolling his eyes this time. Instead he elbowed Allie in the ribs. “No,” Nick said. “That was me.”

Mary never broke eye contact with Allie. “It’s impolite to comment on how someone crosses.”